This is the first crocus that made it to the flowering stage in my yard this year. I type this with clenched teeth as I examine the neatly eaten stalks that signify a number of other crocuses may have bloomed already sometime when I wasn’t watching. Something is eating my flowers and I would like to find those crocus-eating creatures (probably a bunny, otherwise known as a hideous, evil, toothy demon) and explain that eating my flowers is not cute. NOT CUTE AT ALL. It results in that throbbing sensation on the right side of my temple. It makes me curse in horribly uncreative ways (you stupid, damn, stupid rabbit!). I want the crocuses to bloom and then experience a natural, withered death without meeting any teeth anywhere in their life cycle. You got that stupid stupid stupid damn bunny? I don’t care if you have a fluffy white tail that makes my last remaining cuteness neuron seize up with awe. Leave my crocuses alone!
This morning, flowers cracked open
the earth’s brown shell. Spring
leaves spilled everywhere
though winter’s stern hand
could come down again at any moment
to break the delicate yolk
of a new bloom.
The crocus don’t see this as they chatter
beneath a cheerful petal of spring sky.
They ignore the air’s brisk arm
as they peer at their fresh stems, step
on the leftover fragments
of old leaves.
When the night wind twists them to pieces,
they will die like this: laughing,
tossing their brilliant heads
in the bitter air.
© 2007 Christine Klocek-Lim